


the universe inside you

by skitzofreak



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Jedha, The Education of A Guerilla Child Soldier, Tumblr Prompt, cultural headcanons, light and dark, movie scene plus missing scene, pretty lamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitzofreak/pseuds/skitzofreak
Summary: Cassian Andor turns to face her fully, and that same sunbeam that lit his eyes a moment ago now turns half his face to shadow as he leans in close and says, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd, “Rebellions are built on hope.”(For the Rogue One Anniversary Week, Day Three: "Favorite Location / Light And Dark")





	the universe inside you

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this story, we'll assume Jyn and Cassian were hunting around Jedha for more than twenty minutes. Also, I make several references to my headcanons about Jedha City from ['you give me something,'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959959/chapters/27043473) but it is not at all necessary that you read that because they are, in fact, totally different universes.

 

 _Never trust what a person says_ , Saw taught her, years ago when Jyn was small and fierce and faithful. Her personal lessons with Saw grew fewer and fewer as time passed, his face more distant and his hand less often on her shoulder. But in the beginning, when everything else she’d ever loved was lost and the galaxy was vast and full of monsters, Saw Gerrera was the calm center of her turbulent world. So Jyn would sit at his feet in the glow of the bunker lights or the guttering emergency lamps and clean her blaster, listening with rapt attention as he ordered the chaos for her.

 _Never trust what a person says_ was one of his favorite lessons to teach. _For people,_ and here he would often bow his head and stare into the red light of the fire, _people lie._

Sometimes he would continue in his steady, deep voice, but sometimes he would gesture to her, a signal that it was her turn to parrot back the lesson. Dutifully, Jyn would click her blaster together and perhaps reach to sharpen her blade instead, and in her high, clear voice she would recite. _Look instead at where he places his feet, to learn what he fears. Note what he holds in his hands, to understand what he is willing to do. And above all else,_ here Saw would reach out and tap her wrist with one heavy finger, to emphasize the point or perhaps reward her for remembering it so perfectly, _observe where he casts his eye, to understand what it is that he desires._

Jyn is no longer so small, but she is still fierce, and though Saw’s final lesson in the bunker of Tamyse Prime fractured her faith in many ways, she still knows these words to be true. So when the Alliance says, “Help us find Saw Gerrera and we will let you go,” Jyn believes _that_ roughly as much as she believes in magical Jedi saviors and kind prison wardens. She doesn’t have the time or resources to stake out the Rebel Command, though, so she will have to settle for watching their chosen representative, her companion and her chain, Captain Cassian Andor. She resolves immediately not to trust any friendly overtures or earnest promises of her supposed freedom. She isn’t even willing to believe any threats he makes, because he is clearly bound by chains of his own. In fact, Jyn is pretty much set not to believe a single thing he says for the duration of their time together.

That he doesn’t say much of anything at all is both an unexpected comfort and a source of profound suspicion.

That he lets her keep his stolen blaster is even more so.

Jedha City is old, dirty, and packed full of refugees, religious remnants, and of course, Stormtroopers. The old stone streets are narrow and winding, the tiled buildings tower overhead, and everywhere they go, the streets seethe with people. The crowds are a good excuse to walk close to the spy, the better to keep an eye on him. If he tries to pull something over on her, she wants to be close enough to see it coming, and maybe get her truncheon in his ribs before he can finish it.

 _Look at where he places his feet_ , Saw commands, and Jyn watches as Andor angles his path through the crowds as close to the walls as he can reasonably get. He never walks in a straight line, choosing instead to weave between stalls and make abrupt turns into alleyways and down side streets that eventually wind back around to the main roads. That he is careful and cautious and constantly on the alert for unfriendly eyes or an unwanted follower does not surprise Jyn at all. He is, after all, a spy – a rebel spy, at that, one of the most hunted beings in the Imperial-controlled galaxy. Where a man walks shows what he fears, and the spy abhors attention. No, it doesn’t surprise her at all to find that he prefers the cover of shadows and the anonymity of bustling crowds.

What surprises her is how neatly his movements seem to slot in with her own natural instincts, how easily she matches his pace, how naturally her own stride synchs with his restless stops and starts.

Some _shtik drek_ Aqualish smacks into Jyn’s shoulder with a derisive grunt, and she turns to give the fucker and his ugly friend an instructive bone fracture or two. The Aqualish snarls and the Human asshole eyes her through his half-melted eye sockets, and Jyn’s blood warms as her fingers curl to fists - but Andor is there, his arm wrapped around her waist and his hip digging into her side, shoving her away. “No, no, sorry, sorry, tourists,” he says, his accent suddenly thicker and rougher than she’s heard it yet, and his face smiling and pleasant, “tourists, we don’t want trouble, sorry.”

Jyn growls a little at the ease with which he lies ( _never_ trust what somebody says), and his arm tightens around her in warning, though he does not look down at her. He pulls her away and she lets him, and after that he stays even closer at her side, his arm brushes hers and his wary scans of the crowd now constantly slip down to touch on her before swinging away again. Apparently, he doesn’t trust her as much as she doesn’t trust him. She considers elbowing him hard enough to warn him off, but he’s dropped the hapless tourist act and the crowds are really thick, anyway.

 _Note what he holds in his hands_ , Saw reminds her, and Jyn uses her need to dodge a passing group of robed Humans to dart in close and brush her fingers over his nearest hand. He twitches, but doesn’t speak, and Jyn notes that his fist was clenched just as tight as hers had been, a moment ago when she was ready for a fight. The sniper scope on his belt digs briefly into her side as she presses against him, and then the robed Humans pass and she eases away again casually. She glances up and catches his eye, briefly illuminated by a streak of sunlight filtering down through the high rooftops. His expression tells her that he knows exactly what she’s doing, but instead of calling her on it, he simply tells her of his contact, the sister of a Partisan gone missing – and that he hopes the name Jyn Erso will be enough to get a meeting with the rest of them.

“Hope?” She can’t but stare at him incredulously. He has brought her all this way, balanced everything he needs to do (everything she needs to find) on some tenuous _hope?_

Cassian Andor turns to face her fully, and that same sunbeam that lit his eyes a moment ago now turns half his face to shadow as he leans in close and says, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowd, “Rebellions are built on hope.”

The intensity in his voice runs down the length of her spine and almost makes her shiver, but Jyn never believes what anyone _says,_ so she stiffens her back and lifts her chin, unmoved and unimpressed. His eyes flick over her face for a moment, the shadows seem to deepen across his features, and then he turns and pushes on through the crowd.

Jyn hurries to stay close.

It takes them another hour to shove their way towards the huge Temple of Kyber, and the streets begin to darken as the sun sets behind the towering monolith of weathered stone. As the light fades, the shadow of the Temple stretches out and engulfs the city, making it seem even darker. Some stumbling Decraniated comes lurching out of a nearby shop at them, and Jyn instinctively leans against Cassian to direct him around the half-head obstacle. He calls back to the Decraniated servant in a halting local tongue, and then glances down at her again. “Problem?”

She shrugs. “Don’t like them much.”

“Few do,” he agrees absently, his attention already swinging back to the crowded streets.

“Surprised the Empire hasn’t killed them all off,” she mutters, more to herself than him, but he answers anyway.

“Why should they? Slaves who don’t know they are slaves are no threat to them.”

His voice is oddly bland, but Jyn hears the dark ripple of anger under the surface of it and throws him a sharp look. As they walk deeper into the shadow of the Temple, the vendors and locals begin to light colorful lamps and small, sputtering neon signs, a scattered attempt to hold off the encroaching darkness. Up close, the lanterns are cheaply made and the neon is a little garish, but when she lifts her head and takes in the whole long street ahead of them, it’s…oddly beautiful. Like a trail of colorful stars, a narrow, twisting nebula of color and light.

“They say the Temple used to be covered in crystals,” the spy says suddenly from her side, and Jyn startles at the sound of his voice. When she turns to look at him, she sees he’s staring up at the stone monolith above them with half-closed eyes that are hard to read in the gloom. “The surface was so covered, that on clear nights it would reflect back the lights of the city in a great aurora.”

“Did you ever see it?” Jyn asks, despite herself.

He drops his gaze back to the street and shoulders her gently to the side, around an oncoming group of chattering Chadrian. “No,” he says shortly when the horned men have passed, then he steps a little away from her, though his jacket still scrapes against her sleeve as they move on.

Jyn glances back up at the bare stone of the darkened Temple. It juts up into the twilight sky, blocking out the first, faint stars of evening, and if any of the colored lamp light reach it, it reflects nothing back. It's hard to imagine such a featureless, imposing structure as anything so lovely as he had described. It isn’t as hard to imagine the Empire destroying something beautiful for the sake of power. _We wondered why they were stripping the temple_ , he’d said as they watched the shuttles drifting gently from the ground to the looming Star Destroyer. _Now we know._ _It's the fuel for the weapon._

 _The weapon your father is building_.

 _My father is dead_ , she thinks as harshly as she can manage, and turns her gaze resolutely back to street level.

The closer they come to the Temple, the more Stormtrooper patrols they pass. Cassian’s path becomes even more erratic, darting through narrow gaps in the crowd and pressing close to the sides. He glances back at Jyn often, no doubt concerned that she will take this admittedly perfect opportunity to bolt and lose him in the crush. She glares back at him every time, chin tilted defiantly. She said she would help, didn’t she? She might not be thrilled to meet with Saw Gerrera again, but if he has something that could lead to her –

Well, she said she would help.

They stop at last, several meters away from the gaping entrance to the Temple. The grand doors of the great building are wide open, a yawning black maw that makes Jyn think of mynock jaws opening wide to swallow prey. The handful of gleaming white Stormtroopers standing just within the doors could easily be the sharp teeth. Cassian clenchs his jaw and sidles up to a nearby wall, leaning against it. It's almost full dark now, and the only light near his chosen position is a cluster of bright gold and red round lamps dangling from the corner of the nearest vendor stall. He folds his arms and scowls at the entrance, clearly not willing to walk through the doors while the ‘trooper patrol lingers there. Jyn considers, and then settles herself between him and the lanterns, leaning back against the wall alongside and jamming her hands into her jacket pockets. The faint breeze that manages to wind its way between the buildings and the bodies here tugs at her scarf, and she shoves it back and off her head irritably.

“They’ve set the watch,” she says after a while, eyeing the ‘troopers. She can tell from the way his lips thin that Andor has already reached that conclusion too. Something must have tipped the ‘troopers off that things were going to happen in this area, or perhaps they simply always choose to stand a guard at the entrance to the biggest landmark in the city. And once Stormtroopers decide to set a watch on a place, they tend not to move for _hours_.

“We may have to come back tomorrow,” Cassian answers at last, staring at the door with a stubborn set to his jaw.

The vendor with the red and gold lamps lights yet another one, this one a tiny sphere that glows a pretty blue. Jyn watches the Tholothian vendor hang the little round light on the opposite corner of her stall, another tiny spark flickering in the darkness. “Back to the ship?” She grimaces as she asks, because it was a two hour slog from their landing point to the gates, and another two hours back through the freezing cold desert night does not appeal.

“Hm,” he agrees, though the shadows on his face deepen and he does not shove away from the wall. “Perhaps she will come out this way,” he mutters. His hand drifts to his side, hovering for a moment above the spot where she knows his blaster is concealed. Jyn eyes him narrowly, but he stretches his fingers irritably and folds his arms again, and she lets out a mental sigh of relief. So he isn’t willing to start a firefight in a crowded market with a dozen Stormtroopers – it's good to know that he isn’t insane, anyway.

The Tholothian sets out yet another palm-sized spherical light patterned in green and orange, and Jyn smirks as she realizes that the lamps are actually the vendor’s wares. The vendor has even woven a string of tiny colored lights through her many pale brown lekku, which reflect in her dark brown skin. Spy boy has managed to park them both right next to what is about to be the most well-lit spot in the square. So much for sticking to the shadows.

The vendor places out another lamp, one that shifts slowly from red to orange to yellow to white and then back through the spectrum again, making the little flame mosaics on the side glitter like real fire. Jyn glances from the stall to the spy, but his eyes are firmly on the Temple, perhaps hunting for his contact, perhaps looking for an alternate way in, perhaps stubbornly hoping the ‘troopers will move on despite all appearances. He looks content to wait there all night. Well, easy for a man wearing a parka thicker than a Wookiee's fur, but the chill is starting to creep into the worn jacket that Jyn scrounged at the last minute from the Alliance quartermaster. She shifts her weight impatiently while he stands as still as the shadows themselves. But despite his glare, the contact never appears in the open doorway, the Temple remains an impenetrable hulk of stone, and the ‘troopers stay right where they are.

The vendor places out another lamp, green with little pink and red flowers patterned around the edges. Jyn leaves the spy to brood along the wall and shuffles cautiously a little closer.

“Gentle winters to you,” the Tholothian greets her, her indigo eyes glimmering in the reflection of her lamps.

“Kind summers,” Jyn murmurs, eyeing the lamp in the vendor’s dark hands.

“Ah,” she follows Jyn’s gaze. “The Pillars of Creation.” She holds up the lamp so that Jyn might better admire the brilliant mosaic work in the glass. Three green-edged golden pillars twist up against a blue-black background dotted with shards of white. Jyn recognizes the image instantly – the Convor Nebula had been one of her favorites when she was a child reading her Papa’s books about deep space phenomena. The three Pillars of Creation have many myths attached to them too, and Mama used to tell her all about Horrun and the Great Palace of the Jedi Masters, or the Three Singing Sisters –

 _Damn it_.

“It does not please you?” The Tholothian’s voice is suddenly soft, and she lowers the lamp with what appears to be genuine regret in her face.

“It’s gorgeous,” Jyn says quickly, a flush of inexplicable guilt catching her slightly off guard. “I just - ” she shakes her head to clear it. “I was just remembering the stories.”

The vendor breaks into a smile again. “The tale of the Dancers, perhaps? The most beautiful of beings, who fell in love and danced their way into the stars, that they might never be apart?” She holds up the lamp again, and Jyn steps forward a little, drawn in despite herself.

“No,” she says softly. “The Singing Sisters.”

“Who refused the dark Sith lord that would have turned the magic of their voices to foul purpose,” the vendor continues wisely, holding the lamp a little closer until it reflects on Jyn’s skin and fills her eyes with the glittering of it’s stars. “And when he killed them for it, the stars wept so brokenheartedly that the gods remade the sisters into pillars of light, and in the sky they sing forever more. Yes, yes, a sadder tale, but a beautiful one all the same.”

“It is,” Jyn agrees. Something moves in the corner of her vision, and Jyn looks up sharply to see –

“We should go,” Cassian says from her shoulder, looking down at her with an expression she cannot begin to read. His face is alarmingly blank under the pattern of colored light and shadows that scatter across his features, but the lamp light catches in his dark eyes, which stare straight at her and never waver.

“It is a dark night,” the vendor says into the sudden silence. “Perhaps a light to guide your way, sir?”

“No, thank you,” he replies without breaking Jyn’s gaze. “I don’t need it.”

The vendor says something else, but Jyn tunes her out, stepping back slightly so that Cassian can slide into place next to her as she moves back out into the crowd. They will have to slog back to the ship tonight after all, it seems, and try again tomorrow in the daylight. Jyn hugs her thin coat tight as she follows Cassian on his carefully erratic path through the steeping shadows, and watches the lights of the city flare brighter as they combat the darkness. He does not speak again, except once when she has to move away from him to go around an oncoming Kaminoan in a flaring blue robe. When she reappears around the other side, she finds that Cassian has turned his head to watch for her, eyes as focused and inscrutable as they were by the lamp vendor. “Stay close,” he murmurs as she moves back to his side, and Jyn nods.

He keeps his eyes trained on the crowd and the shadows behind them, but she feels the weight of his gaze on her even as they move on through the brightly lit city, keeping close to the shadows and each other, until at last they reach the safety of the desert night.

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this story (and, coincidentally, for my 'stardust in your spine' series) comes from [this beautiful poem/art](https://www.behance.net/gallery/25429339/93-Percent-Stardust?ilo0=1). 
> 
> A [Tholothian](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tholothian) is a humanoid being with multiple lekku (head-tentacles) instead of hair. The vendor was particularly skilled at twisting hers up into elegant styles and weaving tiny lights all through them.
> 
> The [Pillars of Creation](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pillars_of_Creation) also exist within our galaxy, although I made up the stories Jyn and the vendor tell about their version of them. (And yes, yet another subtle bird reference, blame [Ivaylo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivaylo/pseuds/Ivaylo).)
> 
> Look, I just really like Jedha, and Jyn, and Cassian, and the duality of man as represented by light and darkness. This was a self-indulgent excuse to write about them all, plus pretty lamps!


End file.
